


What I'd Give

by TimeIsPassing (lost2bfound)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), White Collar
Genre: F/M, Protective Avengers, Protective Peter, Secret Identity, Secret Past, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost2bfound/pseuds/TimeIsPassing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a woman from Neal's past shows up, a series of revelations takes place: Peter will learn why Neal escaped from prison, Neal will learn why she walked out of his life, everyone will learn the truth about Kate, and the woman will just think, "What I'd give if I could stay and what I'd lose if I did."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jones's POV

Jones POV:

All it was suppose to be was a coffee run, but like most things that involve Neal Caffery, things got complicated. He really was only supposed to be gone for a few minutes, five at the most even with the usual crowd at this hour and the traffic on the sidewalks, just five minutes. Yet a minute turned into five and five into seven until it got to the point that Burke had ordered Caffery's tracking location to be pulled up.

Nothing appeared to be wrong, Neal was in the coffee shop, yet something seemed off. After having watched Caffery's tracking data the first couple times he 'ran' there was something different about this time. Then it dawned on us, Caffery hadn't moved an inch in the past 3 minutes. Whether he was in the office of at home, his dot was constantly in motion, pacing, tapping his leg, walking, the kid simply couldn't stay still.

After ten minutes, Burke was ready to call in the SWATT Team, Marshals, Helicopters, and any kind of law enforcement to begin the hunt for our 'escaping' consultant. Diana, level minded as always was trying to convince Burke that there was no way that the anklet could have be tampered with to say the Caffery was in the coffee shop. She was right though, Caffery wasn't stupid enough to run while peter was still in the office with the resources and power to find him within an hour. No, Caffery was smarter than that.

Before any more rash decisions were made I volunteered to go down to the coffee shop and check. It was common sense, yet everyone in the conference room seemed to stop and stare at me, it was as if I had just found the solution to world peace. Sheesh, Burke may say that we Harvard grads could be thick, but some FBI people were so used to dealing complicated cases that they over looked the simple explanation.

So here I was, walking down the street to the coffee shop to 'catch' Neal Caffery. It wasn't hard to spot him standing outside the shop on the sidewalk, but it wasn't his ridiculous fedora that caught my eye, it was because he was the only person on the street not moving. Something about his stance and his shocked expression made me call for back up. Even though I was a good ten feet away I could spot that expression anywhere, either there was a gun within shooting distance pointed at him or something bad had just happened.

A quick 360 scan showed me no obvious threats of snipers, what the hell was going on then? As I moved towards Caffery pondering this question, I felt the backup I had requested fan out behind me. "Jones, what happened?" Burke yelled over the noise of the crowd. "Don't know, it's Caffery."


	2. Neal's POV

Neal's POV:

She's here. After 7 years, she came back. All I was supposed to do was go on a coffee run, instead what do I get? A hidden note under a coffee cup with the words: 'Miss me?' inscribed in that beautiful calligraphy that I had taught her how to do.

Frozen and unable to move I thought, 'you have no idea how much I missed you'. Memories long suppressed that should have been forgotten began to break surface in my mind.

Our first kiss in the rain, it had been a bit awkward at first undoubtedly, neither of us the most experienced and both unsure exactly how to do it, but once we did let our emotions take hold, it turned into a beautiful kiss and undoubtedly one of my favorite. I thought back to my first major heist and her rage and disapproval that followed it. Her dry humor that lifted my heavy heart every time a day went south and a con unraveled. I remembered her smile that told me that she forgave me every time I pulled a careless heist that would attract the attention of the FBI. And finally I thought about the ring. A very legally bought ring that had been given back.

I closed my eyes pained and unsure how to react, she had come back for the first time in years in person. Usually messages came from very confused person that had been chosen from the street or old friends that I had once 'worked' with. But this note, she delivered in person.

My eyes shot open at a sudden thought. She'd be close by, wanting to see my reaction. The question was: where? I spun in a 360, not caring that I was in the middle of a rush hour crowd, I was desperate to catch at least a glimpse of her and that's exactly what I saw.

There she was. Before I knew what I was doing, I was off chasing after her, and in turn she began to run away, as always.


	3. Peter's POV

Peter's POV:

What in the world was Neal doing? There was no way he would willingly take of running in Italian Leather shoes. Something was seriously wrong with this situation. My team and I followed Neal every turn of the way, ready to aid out distressed consultant if it came to it, yet something was undoubtedly wrong. Something was missing.

I skid to a halt causing Jones, who ran directly behind me, to crash into me. Too distracted by the situation to care that he had knocked me over on the sidewalk, I thought aloud, "No one is chasing Neal, so why is he running away?" Silence, then Diana piped in and said, "Maybe he's running to something… or someone." A another pause before my team said, in perfect unison, "Kate." And just like that we were off desperate to catch up to Neal. The sound of running footsteps stopped, and we turned the corner to see Neal and a woman in a blocked alley, her face hidden as she backed up into the safety of the shadows. Then they began to talk.

Neal's voice was unnaturally flat, emotionless, and completely cold. "You left."

Out of the Darkness came a soft surprisingly soothing voice, "I came back."

"7 years late." Neal bit out harshly.

"At least I came back." Neal flinched.

"You shouldn't of left." Neal shot back.

A pause from the darkness.

I looked at my team, all mirroring my confusion, who was this woman?

"I left with good reason." There was a hesitation in her voice, she was leaving something out.

"I could have protected you." Neal's voice had a hint of desperation and hurt. Protect her from what?

"No, I'm trying to protect you." Diana raised a skeptical eyebrow at that reply, Neal needing protection?

"I didn't need you to do that." He shook his head sadly yet his voice remained clip and cold.

A pause.

"Yes you did, you don't know what you're dealing with Neal, this is beyond even you."

"I just needed you, that would have been enough." The darkness shifted around the woman as she moved forward towards the light, but stood close enough to the darkness to hide her face.

"I needed you alive." Neal flinched.

"Alive is not living."

"Living is better than dead."

Silence.

With every retort Neal's voice was losing its edge and adding a tinge of pain to the point that it was painful to just listen to him speak.

Catching Diana's eye, we nodded in unison, time to break up this cheerful reunion. Stepping out from behind the corner we pulled out our guns and stood behind Neal pointing our guns into the darkness.

The woman's voice trembled as she said, "Neal, tell them to put the guns away."

Neal remained silent, staring into the shadows as if he was looking for something that he had lost, and I suppose that in a way he was looking at something he had lost.

The voice was desperate now, "Neal. Their guns."

He shook himself out of his reverie, and nodded. "Peter, there are no need for guns, she doesn't carry." My suspicions deepened, probably a white collar thief.

Diana and Jones looked to me for affirmation, I nodded, and our guns disappeared back into their holsters. This girl was lucky Neal was forgiving because in my mind anyone who put Neal through so much pain deserved to stare down the barrel of a gun.

"Step out into the light." I called out to her, ready to see what I was dealing with. And to my surprise she did, and I wasn't disappointed or surprised. She was beautiful, undoubtedly, with her midnight black hair that came down in waves to her lower back, blue eyes that rivaled even Neal's, and unblemished skin, not pale, not tan, just right. I hated to admit it, but her and Neal made a better couple than even him and Kate did.

Neal took a swift intake of breath as he caught sight of her, and I thought I saw a flash of emotion on his cold face before he regained his mask.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Agent Burke." She called out to me, a slight smile on her face.

"I highly doubt your pleased to meet the man who caught you're friend." Her smile dropped and her eyes looked searchingly into mine, the whole alley froze at her next words.

"No, that's the reason I'm pleased to see you, because you caught Neal."


	4. Woman's POV

The Woman's POV:

I could feel Neal's eyes on me. He didn't have to say it for me to hear what he was thinking, 'traitor'. A flash of regret ran through me before I realized I wasn't sorry that Neal had been caught. It was safer this way. With this thought my back straightened and held my chin high with my eyes turned towards Neal, he had taught me that. To stand by my beliefs and now, in a way, I was using his lessons against him.

Shock shown clearly on Burkes face, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Did he think I was a con-woman? A white collar thief? If only he knew…

My eyes unconsciously drifted back towards Neal, he was as beautiful as always, inside and out. This job suited him. There was no need to avoid daylight in fears of getting caught, or hiding on rooftops at night to spy on the mark. He belonged in the sunlight, with his easy going smile that should be used for more than a con, and his quick remarks that made him fun to banter with. Neal belonged in the light, with the FBI, this was the way it should be. And if I stayed, I would only put him back in the shadows.

"Well Agent Burke, it truly was a pleasure to meet you, hopefully I will have the chance to meet you again." Hopefully I'll still be alive for out next meeting, and with that I made a wide circle around his team and Neal towards the entrance way of the alley. I felt my heart tug painfully as I distanced myself from Neal, god how I missed him. I should be with him and for a moment my steps faltered, I should be with him but I can't. 'Neal needs sunlight' I chanted to myself, walking forward with a new found purpose, he doesn't need me anymore so I won't stick around.

Then the worse words a criminal could ever hear were being told to me.

"Stop, you're under arrest for suspected assistance towards a criminal." I turned around just in time to see Burke look at Neal with a sly grin. Damn, that traitor.

"I do believe she gave aid to a white collar thief after an alleged con." A sense of betrayal and hurt washed over me, Neal had turned me in. He was throwing me aside to be taken by the suits.

My mask was crashing as waves of anguish poured over me, he didn't understand why I had left, and now he was turning me over for it. I turned my gaze from Burke to Neal. He didn't meet my gaze, instead choosing to look over my head with an interest I only saw when he was forging a painting. My love had turned me in, and by doing so he had put his own life in danger. Desperation replaced the hurt I had felt as I realize what would happen if I were to be arrested.

"Neal, don't do this." I begged. He still refused to meet my gaze.

"I can't have you disappear again."

"You don't understand. Neal, horrible things will happen if I stay here." Part of my heart had rejoiced at the thought that he wanted me to stay with him, but the other part sunk with realization that he hadn't let me go yet. Seven years and he still hadn't moved on.

"I don't care what happens, the worst thing that could happen to me would be if you were to disappear again." His eyes met mine as he said this and I froze.

"Don't say that, you don't know what would happen to you if I stayed." I tried to sound indifferent and distant but I betrayed myself, my voice broke half way through and a single lone tear escaped from my eye. "You don't know what you're dealing with Neal, you have to let me go."

"I can't."

Burke began to walk towards me and I took a step back. I was unarmed, outnumbered, and emotionally compromised. For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to do. I should back away I thought desperately, but my feet refused to move. I should resist arrest, yet I welcomed every step Burke took towards. I should go, but I really want to stay. A flash of horror ran through me, I wanted to get arrested. Why? So that at least, I could stay close to Neal, even if it were just for the interrogation.

So instead of backing away from Peter Burke, I stepped forward, forward towards my captor, forward towards my imprisonment.

Damn, I still loved him.


	5. Peter's POV

Peter's POV:

Just like Neal, she didn't resist arrest. I felt a pang of panic as I wondered what angle she was playing. Four years ago I had arrested Neal and look what happened. Yet there were similarities in both situations. Neal had been looking for Kate when I hard arrested him, and in much of the same way the girl had been looking for Neal (and he had been looking for) when I had arrester her. I massaged my temple already feeling on the oncoming headache.

Everything about this situation was wrong. She could have run if she wanted to. My team was at a disadvantage moving in groups and being further away from the entrance of the alley, yet she had not moved. And if I admitted it, she would have gotten away. If she was half of what Neal was when he was running, the girl would have gotten away and stayed away. She would have made it.

I watched with a grim sense of satisfaction as Jones placed the handcuffs on her slender wrist. It looked so large and metallic against her tan skin, and for a moment I wondered if she should have a smaller size due to her slenderness. I looked her over once more and I wondered how she had come to be involved with Neal. She could have made a way in the world if her quick remarks and fast acting comments proved anything, it was that she is quick on her feet.

Her eyes flashed to my right and unconsciously I turned to look at Neal to before turning back to the girl. She looked as if she was trying to find something on Neal's face, looking for sight. But what sign? Massaging my temples I already yearned for some aspirin and time to tell El about this girl. A girl with enough power and history with Neal to render him silence, and for once stop his smart-aleck comebacks, I could already hear El's voice cheering her on.

Turning my head back at my partner, err consultant, I felt an emotion I usually didn't feel when it came to criminals: guilt. I had turned Neal against the girl in a ploy to force her to stick around. When I had explained her arrest of having given aid to a criminal, I had looked at Neal in hopes that he would back my play, and he did. My guilt ebbed slightly as I reasoned to myself that Neal had wanted her to stay too, yet my conscience felt a tug as I thought about the betrayal Neal had just served her. A glance in the girl's eyes and I could see her guilt and for a moment I could imagine exactly what she was thinking, 'traitor'. Another pang of guilt hit me, before I forced myself to turn away and evaluate the traitor in question. He was distant, cold and withdrawn. These adjectives have never been associated with Neal. This disturbed me more than anything and with good reason too. After all, it's Neal I'm talking about.

Everything about Neal was warm and cheery. Even his ridiculous fedora, cheeky grin, and glowing attitude screamed a smooth talking, white collar, conman. Yet in the state Neal was in right now, he would have scared even June away, and you know how accepting June was.

Something was wrong with this situation. All the way to the office I was lost in thought attempting to uncover her motives, yet everything seem to depend on her past, more specifically her history with Neal. I didn't even know what she was to him. Another girlfriend? A woman he had conned? Or maybe she had conned him? It all depended on their past, but I didn't see that being told too soon, I berated myself for having put this girl in handcuffs before figuring out more. This may be one of our toughest cases yet, second of course to Neal's. When Neal was involved everything was so much more complicated.

My phone rung, shaking me from my thoughts. Unconsciously I opened my phone and said, "Burke." An out of breathe and slightly panicked voice called out, "Its Jones, something's happening with the girl…" the line ended.

Damn.


	6. Woman's POV

The Woman's POV:

I was proud of Neal, undoubtedly. He had managed to turn his life around, and for that i was glad. Even when we had just met, I could tell that Neal had been meant for more than cons and life in the shadows. I hadn't meant to leave him as suddenly as i had, but just as they say: everything in life is subject to change. And when I left, I worried about how it would effect him. He get reckless in hopes of regaining my attention, and it was true, it was during these times that i had been most watchful of him. But like I said before, I was always there, watching him. He had never lost me or my attention ever. I had always been there for him, even if he never knew. It sounded ironic, but perhaps being thrown in prison was the best thing that ever happened to him. His cons were momentarily on hold, and more importantly, he was safe.

Peter Burke was a good man. I couldn't of chose a better person to catch Neal. He was just any regular F.B.I. agent, there was something distinctly different about him. He seemed to lack the superiority that other agents with his rank carried with them. I was glad when he saw Neal as more than just some regular white collar criminal, but as a person too. He was loyal and believed in change for the better, I appreciated that, and I hoped that Neal could learn something from him. And he had. Neal had grown as a person thanks to Peter, and I was thankful for the F.B.I. agent that had put my love in jail. It truly was ironic though, but what about life isn't ironic?

So as I sat in Agent Jones car picking the lock on my handcuff, I pondered this question. With every thought of Neal I felt my defenses deteriorating. It was dangerous for me to stick around any longer. I was compromised, by love. My defenses were already weak to start with after Neal's sudden appearance. My wall, that had protected me from unwanted memories, crumbled leaving me vulnerable to my dreams. No, not dreams, nightmares.

When I fell asleep in Agent Jone's car I promise it was an accident. After working a long job, then taking a 5 hour flight followed by a 3 hour drive and a 45 minute walk, with no sleep in between, i was tired, both physically and mentally. I could still see Neal's emotionless face and hear his icy voice. The man I saw today was not the loving man I had left behind. My conscious reminded me that I had only myself to blame after leaving him behind like I did.

My heart ached as I remembered the Neal I used to know and love. The words "he doesn't understand" became the temporary band-aid that kept my heart from completely breaking apart, but even that was beginning to tear. So as I fell away from Agent Jones car,and into my nightmare, it was understandable that even there Neal would haunt me. And what i saw there was even more disturbing than even I could of imagined.

I was running. I didn't know why I was, but i just knew that i needed to get to somewhere or to someone. It was sunny in my dream i believe, but even that began to fade away as darkness overwhelmed me and I was running along the tracks of a train. I was in a tunnel, pebbles flying under my feet yet i knew that if this had been real life, I would of been moving faster.

Then I saw him, the light at the end of the tunnel was Neal. I ran faster, calling out his name, desperately trying to get him to turn around and look at me. What I said next shocked me so badly that I stumbled to the ground and scraped my knee. "Neal you don't understand." At that he did turn around and looked at me as i stood kneeling a distance away from him, "Help me understand" he said simply.

Neal's words echoed and suddenly the tunnel was bright with light, as if a train were passing us by, forcing me to close my eyes and lose sight of Neal, but I could still hear his words, "Help me understand." his words faded with the light from "Help me understand" to simply "help me". And with those chilling to words came a bloody Neal lying in front of me as I kneel. Once more Neal's ice blue eyes looked at me and he said those heart breaking words just once more, "Help me" and his eyes closed.

Blood was spreading everywhere, i tried to stop the bleeding, but it seemed to be coming from both everywhere and no where at once. There was too much blood, as i looked at my stained hands and the growing puddle of blood surrounding us. I can't save him. I can't, Just as i cant save him in real life, I can't save him now.

My shoulders sagged with grief and then I heard him, the source of my nightmares, the reason why i had been forced to leave Neal. "You can't save him ever. Not in this dream, not in reality. Never." I saw red. He was the reason i had left Neal, and now he had killed him. I felt my world crumbling as I looked at my hands, He killed Neal, and I would kill him for depriving both Neal and myself of the life we could of shared. I was out for blood, and since there was nothing holding me to this world, there was nothing stopping me from killing him and me in the process.

It was so much easier to kill when your not trying to save yourself in the process, soooo much easier.


	7. Jone's POV

Jone's POV

It was Diana who noticed that the convict was awake. If it hadn't been for the slightest narrowing of her eyes and the furrowing of her brow, I would have thought that everything was fine. Yet, as I watched Diana scrutinize the woman in the backseat, her face contorting with confusion, I took my eyes off the road to see what had her so worried.

At first glance, nothing appeared to be wrong. She was just as motionless and quiet as before. Whereas Caffery may always be on the move, this woman seemed content to remain in place. Poised, if somewhat stiff, she sat unmoving, perfectly normal.

Then, at second glance, I realized what was wrong. Her demeanor had taken a 180 turn. Before, in the alley, she had seemed almost friendly for a criminal. Respectful and not violent, she seemed to be a replica of Caffery. Yet, in this moment, as her cold dead eyes snapped up to meet mine, I felt a twinge of fear. Her eyes almost appeared to be on fire with all the hatred and fury they seem to contain. The once sea blue had heated to a boil, threatening to burn all she set her sights on.

In three flashes, her handcuffs were off, the car door recklessly thrown open, and a perfect somersault executed as she tumbled out onto the road and ran. Precious time was wasted as Diana and I froze in shock before quickly pulling to the side of the road and chasing after her.

Legs burning and arms pumping, we followed her turn by turn, sometimes only getting a glimpse of her midnight hair before she disappeared around a corner. For a woman of such a small stature, she was quite a runner, turning five feet into seven, and seven feet into ten. Now I pride myself in being at least in shape, but as a chased after her, she strengthened my resolve to visit the gym everyday and skip my weekly burgers.

Despite the sidewalks being filled with pedestrians and food carts, she remained unstoppable as she jumped over stands and side stepped oblivious bystanders. There seemed to be no way to close the distance between us. Diana picked up her pace, drawing ahead of me in the race to catch the convict. With all these woman ahead of me, it made me wonder that while men may be stronger, woman appeared to be faster. Each footstep began to feel heavier as the blocks continued to fly past our feet. Subconsciously, I could hear more the sound of people running behind me, and I hoped desperately that it was Peter and Neal instead of any accomplices she may have nearby.

There seemed to be no closing to our chase, and even Diana, half way between the woman and myself, appeared to be tiring. Then, the streaming black hair of the woman disappeared around a corner, Diana followed, and the sight that I saw as I entered is surely one to remember.

The two woman circled each other, eyes flashing in an attempt to anticipate each others' next move. Diana's gun lay abandoned on the cold concrete floor, whether by choice or by force, she was unarmed. Though neither made a move to attack, the air around them felt dangerous. A part of me whispered that I should turn back around the corner and wait in safety until their match was done. It sounded tempting, my feet made to take be back a couple steps when suddenly I no longer had that option.

Behind me, the figures of two men burst around the corner and my hand automatically flew to my gun. Drawn and aimed, my finger squeezed gently on the trigger before I recognized the familiar sight of my boss and his fedora wearing C.I. A nod of acknowledgement passed between us before we turned back to the fight.

The atmosphere was tense, for once even Caffery had no words to lighten the mood. It felt as if we were back to the first day Neal had come to assist us on a case. There was no telling which side he was truly rooting for and it scared me how vulnerable I suddenly felt with that thought. I could almost see the gears whirling in his brain. Undoubtedly, he was trying to calculate the odds of who would come out victorious and who would lay defeated. The advantage was on Neal's side, as he, unlike Peter and I, knew the extent of the woman's skills.

Even as Diana and the convict continued to circle each other, eyes sharp with anticipation, none of us, save Neal, had seen the woman launch herself at our colleague until it was too late. Only blurs remained from the figures colliding and landing on the ground with a painful thud. As they rolled on the cold concrete floor fighting for dominance, it was only then that I realized that the woman had never managed to reach Diana. Instead, she had been intercepted, mid-tackle by Neal. Diana remained standing where she was, perfectly fine, except for the shock of having been saved by our C.I.

Neal was notoriously famous for being a white collar criminal. As far as we knew, he avoided violence like a plague. Even in the deadliest of situations, he preferred sweet-talking his way out of trouble and punishment, usually successfully I might add. But now, as he lay pinned to floor, there seemed to be no escape, even for the famous Neal Caffery.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Peter drew his gun, aiming carefully for the woman looming over his C.I. Even Diana had managed to shake herself from her shock and rearmed herself in preparation for what was to come. Yet, despite our frantic attempts to save Neal, we watched as a sly grin stole over his face. It was familiar and almost reassuring, the type of smile that came to his face just before he pulled a successful con. Then, in a blink of an eye, he flipped their positions so that she lay beneath him, struggling to escape from his heavier weight.

Yet, Caffery paid no mind to her desperate attempts. Instead, he looked searchingly in her eyes, not noticing or choosing not to see the hatred shining within them. Only once she seemed to realize that there was no escape did she lay still on the floor. Never before had she seemed so small and fragile than she did in that single moment. She stared back at him, eyes glazed over, yet no hint of recognition played across her face. Even Peter seemed taken back by this fact as he watched her, observing her every action just as he would an unsolvable puzzle.

Caffery however, as always, seemed to be a step ahead of us. Paying no mind the fact that the woman did not seem to remember him, he leaned forward a placed one lingering kiss on her forehead. Her eyes shut, almost against her will at the sensation, before snapping open as he whispered, almost inaudibly, "Wake up, it's just a dream."


	8. The Woman's POV 3-It's Just A Dream

The Woman’s POV:

“It’s just a dream.”

The words echoed through the haze my mind had fallen into. If this was a trick, it wouldn’t work. If anything, the craving for blood and death raged hotter in my veins. I was twice as deadly, when I didn’t care about escaping the fight alive. All that mattered was outliving this opponent long enough to lay down next to Neal’s body.

“Wake up. It’s just a dream.

A dream? What dream? How could I possibly be asleep?

The man that stood before me smirked in triumph as he held out a knife drenched in the blood of the one person I’d ever sought to protect. He seemed to real and hateful to be only a figment of my imagination. Yet, even as I thought this, he vanished as if blown away. If only it were that easy to kill him in real life. 

“It’s just a dream.”

There it was again. 

Throwing one more cautious look at the place the man had stood, I retreated back to where Neal lay and drew his body into my lap. 

I pressed one last kiss to Neal’s cold forehead. He was dead. It had all been for nothing. I didn’t save him. 

What more? His murdered had escaped.

“It’s just a dream.”

The sorrow and lost and complete anguish that racked through me in sobs felt to strong for this all to just be my imagination. 

If it felt this heartbreaking to lose him a dream, then I never want to wake up. 

If love is for children than children are the strongest of us all—only they have the strength to tolerate and survive this kind of pain.

Then, the body I held in my arms was gone as well and once more, Neal had vanished. Even in death, we were fated to be apart. 

Come on, Lena,” the voice called once more, “Wake up.”

I shook my head, as if doing so could dissipate the fog that had descended into my head. Thoughts were slow and jumbled. In this state, comprehension and memory recollection was vague and bleary. What was happening?

“Come on,” the voice called once more, “wake up.”

Wake up? How do you wake up if you’re not even sure you’re asleep?

I closed my eyes—metaphorically or physically, I wasn’t sure—and tried to remember.

Remember what though?

“Follow my voice. Wake up.”

Instructions. Finally.

The voice sounded familiar. If it hadn’t been, the subconscious triggers in my mind would have had me on my feet fighting—regardless if I was awake or asleep. I’d been trained to react to the unknown. Therefore, this voice and the man to whom it belonged was known to me.

Silk, calm, and soothing, it seemed I was not only familiar with him, but he was familiar with me and my disposition to fall into dreams I apparently could not wake up from.

A voice that beautiful must belong to a beautiful man. Someone I trust, because even in my state of half-consciousness, hearing him speak warmed a chill I never knew I had inside of me. It made me wish I could listen to him speak for hours, just to listen to his voice and the stories—or lies—that he could weave. Something told me that I already have done this before.

Neal had had a voice that beautiful.

“Neal, do we need to sedate her?” An unknown voice called. 

Neal? 

Even as my body instinctively tensed, preparing for a fight, my mind dazedly replayed the words. He was alive?

“I’ve got this, Peter.” Neal replied, “She doesn’t need to be sedated.”

He was alive.

Blood that had covered my clothes and hands—Neal’s blood—vanished. 

He was alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It’s been a while since I updated, I know. Leave a comment to let me know if I should bother continuing this story after almost 2 years!


	9. Neal's POV--You with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you guys asked for it, here is an update :). Enjoy.

Neal’s POV

She blinked blearily up at the clear blue sky that loomed over the alley. The darkness that had haunted her eyes faded, leaving behind a crystal blue.

“You’re alive.” She breathed once her gaze focused on me. Her relief was almost palpable in the air, as the tension drained from her body and her fighting stance relaxed. 

Yet, even as she said these words, her eyes dimmed and closed off. 

Reality seemed to set in as she instinctively scanned her surroundings for threats, exits, and weapons. Her eyes lingered on the guns drawn, but this time, she did not demand that I ask them to disarm. She probably thought she deserved having guns pointed at her.

I studied her expression, looking to make sure that all traces of the dreamy haze had faded before I cautiously let go of her wrists and settled instead for kneeling next to her.

She sat up slowly and made a show of brushing gravel off her back and out of her hair. I knew better however, as I watched her subtly do a methodical check for injury. Finding none, she glanced once more at Peter and the team, assuring herself that she hadn’t caused them injuries.

Though she pretended to dismiss the fact that they had yet to holster their guns, I didn’t doubt that she had already discerned how to disarm each of them in turn.

Only then did she turn back to face me. 

As we gazed at each other in silence, I could still plainly read her relief at finding me alive. 

She seemed as beautiful and untouched as ever at first glance with her flawless skin, red lips, and beautiful eyes.

Yet, in the depths of her eye there lurked a fear that had not been there when she’d first left. My fists clenched at my side. Something had left a mark on her. Something had left her with waking nightmares of anger and the fear of my death. It made me wonder, if all those times she popped back into my life only to disappear right after were her attempts to reassure herself that I was still alive.

I knew that all of this—her leaving, her reappearances, her nightmares—had something to do with why she had disappeared in the first place. 

Even 7 years later, I couldn’t deny that I would give anything to keep her with me. Just as I would have given up everything for her 7 years earlier. 

I still loved her. 

And her she was, finally within arms reach and not at risk of disappearing before I could reach out and hold her. 

Slowly, I raised a hand to cup her face, giving her time to pull away and react. Instead, she sat frozen, eying my hand as if unsure as to whether she wanted to dive into my touch or shy away from it.

My heart stuttered as she leant into the touch and her eyes fluttered close as my thumb gently stroked her cheek. 

It felt surreal to hold her so close after so long. The empty loneliness that I had carried within me all these years melted away in the face of a love never forgotten and suddenly regained. 

Her smaller hand came up to cover mine and the guarded expression she wore gave way to a vulnerable openness. For the first time since she’d left, she smiled that gentle, genuine smile and looked back at me with wide, trusting eyes. 

It felt as if were back in our apartment—legally rented as she had insisted—back when the future was ours for the taking and everyday spent together was a day spent falling in love all over again.

“Are you with me?” I asked quietly. I didn’t dare risk ruining the moment by asking any louder.

Her blue eyes softened as she spoke the words she had said when I had asked her this question the first time, “Always.”

Then just as I had before, I slid the ring onto her finger. 

It still fit perfectly.


End file.
